Goodnight, Clary
by StevieRae2011
Summary: When Clary is mortally wounded, she and Jace revisit one of their memories. Excerpt: "He replayed the memory in his head and, together with his teen self from the memory, whispered, "Goodnight, Clary." Told from Jace's POV. R&R! You know you want to!


**So, I'm going to comment on the flashback that's going to be in here. It's the "Jace's Bedtime Story" scene. I know some of the words might be wrong in this story. I got it from a copy of the story on deviantART because I lent my copy of CoB to a friend. And, I changed the ending of the scene. It was actually just supposed to be the flashback with the changed ending, but I figured I'd flesh it out. So, I decided to do what I'm going to do. So, that's all the notes I'll give on the chapter. I'll meet you at the end. Read On! **

Jace looked at his beloved. She was so pale. Her bare arms were the white of the plain pillow of the Institute. Her fiery hair was the breath of color in the room. Everyone there was dressed in white- the color of death. Not Jace. He was dressed in black, the color of the fight. He held her limp hand; it was cold. Someone put a hand on his shoulder. He barely glanced over and saw Alec, his parabatai.

"Jace," he said softly. "You should eat." Jace shook his head.

"I won't leave her," he said, his voice the rough, cracked sound of a voice that has been underused. Alec nodded and walked back to where he stood by Magnus, with Maryse and Robert to his left. To Magnus's right was Isabelle who in turn stood beside Maia. Simon had wanted desperately to come in but he couldn't.

Then, Clary's hand twitched. Her eyes opened slowly, even brighter in the midst of the bleak colors.

"Come on, guys. They need to be alone. Maia, go keep Simon posted." She ushered everyone out, but Jace heard her hidden words. _They don't have long. _

"Jace," Clary whispered. He immediately returned his momentarily derailed attention to his wife. "I'm sorry." He worriedly smoothed her hair back.

"Sorry? Darling, why are you sorry?" She smiled sadly at him.

"Because I was careless. I allowed that demon to sneak up behind me, to bite me. You warned me that there was no antidote to it's venom and now you're hurting again."

"Me? I'm not hurting, darling. You'll be alright. Everything will be all right." Jace was panicked now. Clary smiled again.

"We both know that's not true." Jace would not acknowledge the truth.

"It'll be okay… It'll be okay…" His voice faded off.

"Jace?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Do you remember your bedtime story? With the hunting falcon and the Shadowhunter boy?" Jace nodded. "Can you tell it again?" Jace again nodded.

"Once there was a boy." They both fell into the memory. In his mind's eye he saw himself as a teenager, sitting on Clary's bed as she laid her head and closed her eyes. He could even hear her question.

"A Shadowhunter boy?" And his reply.

"Of course." The memory soon became reality, their harsh reality the faint memory.

"When the boy was six years old, his father gave him a falcon to train. Falcons are raptors-killing birds, his father told him, Shadowhunters of the sky.

"The falcon didn't like the boy, and he didn't like it either. Its sharp beak made him nervous, and it's bright eyes always seemed to be watching him. It would slash at him with its beak and talons when he came near; for weeks his wrists and hands were always bleeding. He didn't know it, but his father had selected a falcon that had lived in the wild for over a year, and thus it was nearly impossible to train. But the boy tried, because his father had told him to make the falcon obedient, and he wanted to please his father.

"He stayed with the falcon constantly, keeping it awake by talking to it and even playing music to it, because tired birds were meant to be easier to train. He learned the equipment: the jesses, the hood, the brail, the leash that bound the bird to his wrist. He was meant to keep the bird blind, but he couldn't bring himself to do it- instead he tried to sit where the bird could see him as he touched and stroked its wings, willing it to trust him. He fed it from his hand, and at first it would not eat. Later it ate so savagely that the beak cut his palm. But the boy was glad, because it was progress, and because he wanted the bird to know him, even if it had to consume his blood for that to happen.

"He began to see that the falcon was beautiful, that its slim wings were built for the speed of flight, that it was strong and swift, fierce and gentle. When it dived to the ground, it moved like light. When it learned to circle and land on his wrist, he nearly shouted with delight. Sometimes the bird would hop on his shoulder and put its beak in his hair. He knew his falcon loved him, and when he was certain it was not just tamed but perfectly tamed, he went to his father and showed him what he had done, expecting him to be proud.

"Instead his father took the bird, now tame and trusting, into his hands, and broke its neck. 'I told you to make it obedient,' his father said, and dropped the falcon's lifeless body to the ground. 'Instead, you taught it to love you. Falcons are not meant to be loving pets: they are fierce and wild, savage and cruel. This bird was not tamed, it was broken.'

"Later, when his father left him, the boy cried over his pet, until his father sent a servant to take the body and bury it. The boy never cried again and he never forgot what he learned: that to love is to destroy and to be loved is to be the one destroyed."

Clary's response was the same one they both heard in the memory. "That's an _awful_ story."

"Is it?"

"The boy's father is horrible. It's a story about child abuse. I should have known that's what Shadowhunters think a bedtime story is like. Anything that gives you screaming nightmares-"

"Some times the marks give you nightmares, if you get them when you're too young. And, it's a good story if you think about it. The boy's father is trying to make him stronger. Inflexible."

"But you have to bend a little. Or you'll break."

"Not if you're strong enough."

"Jace, you're the boy in the story." His eyes opened wide. He hadn't expected her to figure it out. But, looking closer, he could see her slipping away into her dreams. When he was sure she was far enough asleep, he leaned in and, thinking _No harm will come of it_, kissed her lips gently.

"Goodnight, Clary."

Back in the real world, Clary's voice had gotten even weaker, her eyes more distant.

"And like the dream of a dream you kissed my lips." She touched her lips as though she could still feel it.

"Yes, I did." She smiled.

"I still think being a little flexible is a good thing."

"If you're strong enough, you won't break." She opened her mouth but he kept speaking. "But, I'm not strong enough." He could see in her eyes that she was slipping away like she had before. Only now, she would not return from where she was going; she would be lost to him. Clary yawned.

"You're as strong as anyone." She raised her white, fragile, cold hand and touched his face. "But nobody could be that strong."

"I love you, Clary."

"I love you, too." She rested her hand back by her side. Her breathing was shallow. "I'm so tired."

"Clarissa Lightwood! Don't you dare leave me! Please!" She yawned.

"I'm trying, Jace. But, I can't…" Her voice broke on the last statement. Tears streaked down her face and she screamed as the venom reached her heart. That's when Jace realized that it was selfish to make her stay.

"Alright, Clary, go to sleep." She had quieted and now her emerald orbs met his perfect golden eyes and hers became confused.

"You want me to leave?" The tears kept leaving wet trails. He kissed the salty drops and spoke his heart.

"No, but no matter how much I want you to stay I can't do that to you. You deserve to be free of this pain. I love you enough to let you go." She smiled.

"Play me a lullaby on the piano." He nodded. He had bought one for this room when she had gotten bitten two weeks ago. It was a slow working venom and she loved to hear him play. He took a seat at the stool and played his lullaby he had written for her. His fingers flew over the keys. He glanced at Clary to see her eyelids drooping. They finally closed and her breathing slowed. As the last note of the song rang out, Clary inhaled for the last time. Jace ran to her and grabbed her hand in time for her chest to fall. And there it laid, perfectly still for the rest of eternity.

"To love is to destroy, to be loved is to be the one destroyed," he whispered to her body. The horrible truth was that she had been talking to _him _when the demon had gotten her. Had been telling _him _that she loved him, had been leaning in to kiss _him_. So it was _his _fault. His love had destroyed her and because she had loved him he had been destroyed as well.

In a twisted mirror image of the night they had revisited together, he leaned in and lightly kissed her lips. They were getting colder.

In his head he saw the end of his memory and, with his teen self from the memory, whispered "Goodnight, Clary." Then, the boy who had not cried since that fateful day, dropped to his knees and cried.

**That was the end. I almost started crying at points. I hope you guys don't hate me too much for killing Clary and making Jace cry. This was an idea I got from the scene I like to call "Jace's Bedtime Story". Also, if you guys think it's a good idea I might write lyrics to Jace's lullaby and post them. So, tell me if you think I should. So, thanks for reading, and have an awesome day/night/afternoon/week/whatever! Loving Jace, StevieRae2011, signing off! **


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